


Trifles

by VanaTuivana



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Prose Poem, The Silmarils - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanaTuivana/pseuds/VanaTuivana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Fëanor, the purest narcissist of all time, and the creation of the Silmarils.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trifles

**Author's Note:**

> Written literal _ages_ ago (for Dawn Felagund's birthday in 2006) and re-posted for posterity.
> 
> Yet that crystal was to the Silmarils but as the body to the Children of Ilúvatar: the house of its inner fire, that is within it and yet in all parts of it, and is its life. ... The heart of Fëanor was fast bound to these things that he himself had made.  
> -From "Of the Silmarils", _The Silmarillion_ , J.R.R. Tolkien

Trifles  
were all they were meant  
to be at first;  
mere baubles to pass the  
time and amuse  
myself with some small craft.

I began with three crystals  
devised from diamond and  
lightning; shaped them  
on the forge until  
they glittered, small stars  
among the ashes;  
gave them delicate shape with  
my hammers and  
my skill.

Three jewels:  
lovely, radiant, perfect;  
Mahtan smiled  
when he saw them  
and praised  
my skillful hand:  
that was not what  
I wanted.

So I took their glory  
and improved upon it:  
a hint of shine here,  
a bit of complexity there,  
coaxed into them the light  
of the Trees,  
and bound them  
in crystal more pure  
than any eyes but  
mine had yet seen.

Three jewels:  
brilliant, shining, perfect;  
Nerdanel was silent,  
reaching out to touch them and  
me, she looked up with wonder:  
that was not what  
I wanted.

So I took their perfection  
and improved upon it:  
a bit of passion here,  
a hint of hatred there, and  
I wrapped them in  
my own spirit:  
my fire thus tempered them  
into the zenith of what  
has yet been achieved  
in this world.

Three jewels  
(and more than jewels:  
 _myself_ ):  
glorious, matchless, perfect;  
my father looked upon them  
and wept,  
and turned his eyes aside; thus  
I knew  
my jewels were  
complete.

Mere trifles, yes;  
but they contain  
me, and  
I am  
 _worlds_.


End file.
